


The Loves of the Masses

by EclecticRegard



Category: Blind Dating (2006), Boston Legal, Heroes - Fandom, House M.D., Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M, Multiple Pairings, slash in some form or another
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticRegard/pseuds/EclecticRegard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Compilation of drabbles involving various fandoms and pairings. No crossovers unless stated otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. House/Wilson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House/Wilson (general)

Wilson gave an annoyed groan as he glanced at the clock:  _2:37 a.m._. He hated waking up in the middle of the night; his friend was usually the one who woke him, only to share irritating 'epiphanies' that could always wait until morning.

If House wasn't sharing his odd middle-of-the-night thoughts, he was doing other things that eventually woke the younger doctor. On more than one occasion, Wilson woke to the sounds of House's Game Boy. A few times it had been because House was taking a midnight bath to soothe his ailing leg, which was of course understandable until the older man decided belting out a catchy tune was imperative to his comfort. Even the neighbors' complaints wouldn't put a stop to a sporadic singing session every now and then.

Very rarely was it for a reason other than House. As far as he could remember, he'd woken up once or twice due to illness and perhaps a few times because his phone rang. Other times, like this particular night, it was because he had to go to the bathroom. Generally, the younger man could slip out from under the covers, sneak off to the bathroom and return with no trouble. Unfortunately, this night was one night House had a rather tight grip on him.

Wilson was too nice to mention it and House was too proud to admit to it, but the older man had the few rare moments of vulnerability where he clung to the oncologist like a teddy bear. If the brown-eyed man was curled up happily on his side of the bed, the blue-eyed man would tug at him until he was blanketed over the taller man's chest. If the shorter man was stretched out on his back, the diagnostician would lay his head just beneath the other's chin and drape an arm over him.

This night the two men lay on their sides, House spooned up behind Wilson and their heads pillowed on his outstretched arm. His nose was buried in soft brown locks, gently breathing in the shorter man's scent. His arm was tucked just beneath Wilson's arms, holding the younger man tightly against his chest.   
  
Wilson tried to loosen the grip; House's arm refused to budge. With a small whimper, Wilson tried again. When House's grasp tightened, Wilson let out an exasperated sigh.  
  
"Oh,  _come_  on!" he mumbled, turning as best he could to look at House. He spoke softly but firmly, "House." When there was no response he tried again, louder this time.  
  
Rather than open his eyes, House groggily stated, "We'd better be on fire, James."

"I have to go."

"Go where? It's the middle of the night... I think."  
  
"No! I mean...  _go_."

It was quiet for a moment. Then: "Are you really so immature that you can't tell me you've gotta pee?"

Wilson scowled into the darkness of the room. "Can't we have this discussion after I come back?"

With a labored sigh, House pulled his arm away. Wilson immediately rolled out of bed and darted into the bathroom, as if worried that the older man would try to snatch him back.

A few minutes later, the covers were lifting again and the oncologist was pressed back up against House.

"Did you wash your hands?"

"... Goodnight, Greg."

"'Cause, I mean, if they're still dirty from grabbing yourself, you're welcome to grab me too."

" _Goodnight_ , Greg."

House huffed, pouting into the shorter man's neck, "Just being polite. See if I ever let you out of captivity again."


	2. Spock/Kirk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock/Kirk (romance, general)

Captain Jim Kirk was a hard worker, despite his overall easy-going personality, and he always ensured there was time to spare for his friends. He made sure reports were done in a timely manner, he took care of any disciplinary problems as soon as they came to his attention and he signed everything as soon as a yeoman brought it to him. As captain and friend to many of his crew, he went above and beyond, pride swelling in his chest whenever he heard someone mention how amazing it was that he could almost handle anything with such a calm and friendly disposition.

Then there was Commander Spock, head science officer and chosen first officer to the captain. Even as a half-Vulcan, the fact that he did the most work out of all of the crew, captain included, was nothing special. People admired him, certainly, but very rarely did anyone ever comment on how hard he was working. His personality didn't allow him to care or notice half the time, but the same couldn't be said about his beloved captain.

Late in the evening, when they were in their shared room, Kirk would leave the taller man to work diligently on his PADD while he showered. If the Vulcan was still working when he returned, the dirty-blond haired man would make a split decision regarding what to do. Most often, if Spock was too busy, Kirk could always find somebody else to hang out with. That was a given. People were drawn to his charismatic personality and were always eager to be around him. Other times, if he was feeling lazy, he would merely lounge on the bed with a paper book and read until he dozed off.

Sometimes he would announce he was going out to play chess with an officer or have a drink with McCoy, only to stop himself just before the door opened. It was hard to catch -- it had taken Kirk a long time to be able to notice -- but on those occasions there was a hint of disappointment mixed with longing in the half-breed's eye, which was usually trained on the screen of the PADD.

More often than not, Kirk would always manage to distract the first officer. This night was no different.

Kirk walked over to the desk where Spock sat, leaned over, and whispered in his ear, "I'm proud of the work you're doing, Mr. Spock."

The slightest hint of green tinged Spock's cheeks as the blonds’ breath tickled his ear. "This close range is unnecessary for a captain to state his approval of his first officer's work."

"Yeah? Well, y'know me. I revel in physical contact." He pressed a soft kiss to the Vulcan's neck.

"Jim... I have not yet completed my work for the day."

"So? I'm sure the captain can be persuaded to give you extra time."

Spock set the PADD on the desk before turning his chair around. "You are, as Doctor McCoy would say, a bad influence."

"I'll take that as a compliment." With a satisfied smile, the young captain would settle himself onto the Vulcan's lap, tangling his fingers in dark hair.


	3. Denny/Alan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Denny/Alan (friendship)

Their marriage had been a shock to many, even to those who'd known of it beforehand. It wasn't a shock because they had actually gone through with it; their basic reasons for it were well-known. No, it was surprising at how little the marriage had changed their relationship in general.

Alan still had a hotel room rented out in his name, almost indefinitely, and Denny still had his luxurious home. They still spent the night at either's place or separately, if they hit a point where a night alone was vital to their individual sanity. They still shared a bed; that hadn't been a big deal for a rather long time. Their jokes about their homosexual tendencies were merely enriched with the marriage, along with jokes about their domesticity. Cigars and scotch remained an important part of their nightly routine, as did going away on spontaneous trips for days or weeks at a time.

The one change that did occur was out of sight to the rest of the world.

They shared a majority of their meals when they were at home. However, it became an unwritten rule of sorts to always have breakfast together no matter what. Routine was good for Denny, Alan would justify to himself. In all honesty, he enjoyed the tradition. It was so unlike anything one ever imagined for them after their wedding. A scheduled 'date' was the last thing either man would bother with, especially with each other.

Neither man could cook a decent breakfast to save his life, so they were always thankful for the room service at Alan's place or the hired chef at Denny's. Breakfast was often a quiet affair, partially due to the fact that they were still waking up while they ate. The younger man would read the newspaper, while the older one flipped through gun magazines.

Alan wasn't sure if it was the unusual custom mixed into their otherwise spur-of-the-moment way of life, but for some reason breakfast grew to be one of his favorite times to spend with Denny. Words weren't needed between them and the comfortable silence was pierced only with the sounds of a page flipping or the ' _clank_ ' of silverware against a plate. Something about the quiet of each morning constantly reminded him that, while they did marry for financial reasons, there was no denying that he loved the other man.


	4. Sylar/Danny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sylar/Danny (romance)

Sylar was anything but affectionate. He was cold and calculating to those he deemed unworthy of anything else. To a select few, he could be polite and even come off as a nice guy. To an even smaller crowd, i.e. Danny, he could be genuinely nice and even caring in his own way.

Danny was aware of the fact that the older man had reasons to be the way he was, and supposed he'd better be glad that Sylar didn't make him feel less important considering his blindness. He didn't mind the way Sylar would almost ignore him if he was having a particularly bad day, or how it seemed like any other time the brunet was just extremely horny.

Just once, though, he wished Sylar would have a mild day.

He knew he was still young and he had plenty of time to grow into a domestic relationship later, but something in Danny wanted just a bit of that domesticity  _now_. He would settle for Sylar coming home without raging about whoever had managed to piss him off, perhaps even just giving him a kiss instead of trying to get into his pants. He would enjoy cuddling while they watched television without the expectation of sex later on. As much as he found he enjoyed intercourse, the poor young man just needed a break every once and a while.

When it became clear that Sylar wasn't picking up subtle hints -- Danny should have known that Sylar simply didn't  _do_  subtle -- the blond took matters into his own hands.

Sylar came home shortly after Danny had returned from his classes. The younger man had already gotten take-out for them and had even set up in the living room.

He seemed to perk up when he heard the door open, and set his Braille textbook aside. "Sylar?"

"You were expecting somebody else?" A smooth, deep voice replied as a hand slipped into the collar of Danny's shirt.

"Sorry, guess I haven't memorized your scent yet." He plucked the wandering hand out of his shirt before gesturing to the spread of food. With a heavy sigh, the older man went to join his young lover on the couch.

Danny spent a good bit of the evening carefully combating Sylar's advances, insisting they had to wait until after he'd finished with his homework. The dark-haired man's attempts eventually subsided a bit and he settled back on the couch to watch television. He grunted in annoyance as the blond curled up against him to read his book, growling whenever the shorter man batted away his eager-to-touch hands.

It was late when the younger man was finished with his studies. He'd no sooner set down his books before Sylar tried again. Danny sprang to his feet, declaring that he needed to shower and Sylar should go on to bed without him. To his astonishment, the brunet conceded, muttering a string of curse words as he headed for their room.

Twenty minutes later, the blond returned, fully clad in pajamas. Sylar, who'd stripped down and waited beneath the sheets, scowled.

"Is this happening or what?" he grumbled, watching Danny climb in next to him.

With a small smile, Danny pillowed his head on Sylar's chest, "We don't have to have sex every night, Mr. Superhuman-abilities. Some of us normals need a break."

The older man's expression softened, though he would never admit it. He put an arm around Danny's shoulders, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "... Just this once."

"Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wholeheartedly blame surrenderdammit for this pairing.


	5. Sherlock/John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock/John (hurt/comfort, friendship)

It was early afternoon when Sherlock returned from his meeting with Lestrade. Normally, he would have dragged John along, but that morning John had an appointment with his therapist that Sherlock was nice enough to let him keep without much complaining.

Their shared apartment was quiet, too quiet for Sherlock's liking. He could hear a bit of noise and knew that it was coming from Mrs. Hudson's place downstairs. With masked concern, he made his way up the stairs, taking two, three steps at a time. He was certain John would be done and waiting at home, or else trying to find him.

What he found both surprised and didn't surprise him.

John was seated in a spot by the window, curled up into as tight a ball as his body would allow. His face was blank and his eyes held the horror of remembering. It took a moment, but it became clear that he was trembling.

As he took a few steps towards the unaware man, Sherlock frowned at himself. He'd dismissed John's lack of depression about the war far too quickly. He couldn't have been expected to notice too much since the shorter man kept his feelings so well hidden, but that didn't stop his guilt at the sight of his friend.

His lanky form sunk down onto the couch next to John. A hand awkwardly reached out to grab the doctor's shoulder.

"John?"

The smaller man jumped, as if he'd just noticed Sherlock's presence. He turned himself slightly so that brown eyes brimming with unfallen tears were looking up into cool gray ones. "Sherlock."

He sounded almost relieved, the taller man noted. "Alright, John?"

"... Yeah. I think so." he stated softly, forcing a small smile to appease the consulting detective.

Sherlock nodded his acceptance, putting an arm around the other man's shoulder just in case.


End file.
